Makeshift Home | Elijah Mikealson x Reader

8

The next week went by and you were surprised to hear nothing about Kyle. He hadn't popped back up at the house, or shown up at Maya's school, or your job. You hadn't seen him at all. It was like he was actually obeying your order...

Maya, however, was not in the slightest radio silent. She was constantly reminding you of her birthday coming up in the next week. After a while, it did start to get annoying. She'd wake up and the first thing she would say was the count until her birthday finally came. Even if it was annoying, you still found it nice that she was so excited for you.

One day after school, you were able to pick her up yourself. She was happy about that, you hadn't picked her up since Elijah started doing it for you. She got in the car with a smile on her face, but something was off. She was being quiet, just sitting in the backseat as she looked outside of the window.

"How was your day today?" You asked, trying to get her to say something before you lost your mind in the peculiar silence. She looked over at you and shrugged, "Good."

She didn't offer details, she didn't add anything, she only turned back to the window. You sat in the silence for a few more moments before asking, "What are you thinking about?"

She turned to you, chewing her nails as she thought of a way to say what she meant to. When she finally said it, though, you realized why she was being so strange about it, "Is Kyle coming over for my birthday?"

You sighed, avoiding tightening your grip on your steering wheel at all costs, "No, honey. He isn't."

She was relieved at that. She hadn't warmed up to him yet, and him leaving her at the park only made it worse. You asked, "Is that all?"

She acted a little awkwardly before adding, "Also...can Grandma and Grandpa come?"

Your breath stopped at that question next. You knew she would have asked eventually, you just wished it would have been in the next few years or something. She was so young, you didn't want to tell her yet.

You sighed and tapped your finger on the wheel, trying to sort out what you would say in your head before you said it. You finally managed a reluctant "we'll see", and she was pleased with your answer.

____

What's wrong, my dear? You seem a little off. Is everything alright?

You sighed: My daughter wants to meet my parents. Her birthday's next week and she wants them to come.

Do you think they'll come?

I wouldn't know. I haven't talked to them in years... The last time was probably before I had her. I don't know. I'm going to try and call anyway.

I wish you luck.

I'm going to need it.

You took a big breath for courage and grabbed your phone, dialing the home phone and hoping it still works. After a few rings, the phone was answered by your mother, Helen. "Hello? Who is this?"

You completely stopped. You hadn't heard that voice in so long. You were conflicted, you couldn't tell whether or not it was good to hear it again.

Considering the last words she'd ever said to you were "I didn't raise a little slut, you're no daughter of mine".

You realized you'd paused for too long when she spoke again, "Hello?"

Before she hung up, you finally spoke, "Oh, um. Hi, sorry."

"Who is this?" She asked. You were a little down about the fact that she didn't recognize your voice. You took another deep breath and said, "It's me...Y/N."